


The Downpour

by digitalcatnip



Category: PAYDAY (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Open Relationships, They use their "real" names here so be warned, an evil cat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 22:06:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13420584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/digitalcatnip/pseuds/digitalcatnip
Summary: (Jim) Hoxton receives a very unwelcome guest that just won’t go away.  Set in a domestic AU.  Some non-explicit sex.





	The Downpour

**Author's Note:**

> Now that all the feelings are out of the way, here's some domestic AU shenanigans. I wasn't a fan of this one at the time, but reading it again, there's some good dialogue here I think. Originally posted on Tumblr in 2014 or 2015. I want to say this was right before "New" Hoxton's name changed to Houston in canon, and fandom at the time all kinda agreed that Austin was a normal enough name for him when not using their work names.
> 
> I had a Sims 3 family for a while of all the heisters. Houston adopted a cat and BOY did it hate Hoxton for some reason :)
> 
> You can follow me on Tumblr @cataouatche !

* * *

 

 

               Jim slammed the door behind him, locking out the torrential downpour outside, for the most part.  Some of the rain made its way inside with him, and was now soaking his doormat and the floor in the entryway.  Quickly he locked the door behind him, then peeled off his soaked through clothes and tossed them into a pile on the floor.

                When he’d run to the café down the road to get lunch, it had been a beautiful, sunny, fall day.  Within twenty minutes the sun disappeared and one of the roughest thunderstorms of the year replaced it.  Jim was forced to walk the entire way back to his house with nothing but a jacket over his head, which was quickly rendered useless.

                He dripped the entire way to the bathroom.  _I’m gonna get bitched at for that, I just know it_ , he thought, and tried to remind himself to run a towel over the hardwood when he was done.

                The doors in the house never truly got closed, and he pushed the bathroom door open with his shoulder, fumbling for the light switch.  Whoever decided to put it behind the door should be shot.  Any time you had to take a piss you ended up standing in the dark bathroom with the door shut before you could find the light.

                When he found himself once again in the land of the visible, Jim was staring down into the bathtub in shock.  Sitting directly in the center, looking up at him, eyes just beginning to contract from suddenly being thrown into light, was a large, black, longhaired cat.

                Jim recoiled.  He had never been a fan of cats, and especially not hairy ones that were in his bathtub without permission.

                “Get.  Get out of my tub,” he commanded.

                The cat stared.

                Jim waved a hand at the cat.  “Go away!  This isn’t your house.”

                The cat stared.

                Jim groaned.  Gingerly he stepped forward, reaching out.  He did not like cats, and his precarious situation of being completely undressed and unprotected did not make him feel much better about the situation.

                The cat stared.

                “Come on puss, please get out of my bathtub; I need to have a shower.”

                The cat gracefully lept from the bathtub right between Jim’s legs, just before he closed his hands around her.  She turned to look at him from behind, rubbing her side against the bathroom door, before walking off into the house.

                He briefly wondered how the cat managed to get inside his house as he stepped into the shower and turned the tap on.

 

 

 

 

                Jim stared at the cat.  She sat on the back of the couch, tail curled around her dainty feet, huge golden eyes locked to his brown.  She blinked slowly.

                “It stopped raining; it’s time for you to leave.”

                The cat twitched her tailtip.

                Jim walked to the door and opened it.  Outside the air was cold and damp, and it came whirling into the warm house.  He pointed outside.  “Go, cat.”

                The cat yawned and tucked her paws under her chest.

                “Get out of my house!  I don’t even know how you got in here in the first place!”  He pointed outside more vigorously.

                The cat closed her eyes and swished her tail.

                Jim groaned and walked to the cat, preparing to lift her and toss her out.  She saw him coming and darted off and around the couch, out the door.

                “Good riddance,” he hissed, locking the door behind her.

 

 

 

 

                Jim sat on the couch, cup of tea in hand, leaning on the shoulder of his boyfriend, watching TV.  It was late evening, and there wasn’t really anything good on, but neither of them cared much.  This had almost become routine – finding the most awful thing they could to watch after eating dinner, to laugh at before Ulf had to go to bed.

                The shitty sitcom they were watching was actually failing to hold Jim’s attention tonight, and he kept dozing off on Ulf’s shoulder.  He was warm and comfortable, hot tea in his belly and Ulf’s arm around his back.

                A loud crash startled Jim from his sleep.  They both jumped up from the couch and darted into the office to investigate.  Jim groaned.

                Standing on the bookshelf where a pile of books once lay was the cat.

                Ulf approached her, palm down.  “Hi there, kitty, where’d you come from?”

                The cat bumped her face into his hand, running her side along his arm and purring.  He rubbed her chin and ears, getting close to her face.  He turned into jelly in the paws of furry animals.

                “Oh come on mate, you don’t know where that cat came from,” Jim growled, recoiling.

                “It’s a cat, Jim, they aren’t gross.  Look, she’s sweet.  I can pet her for a second or two before you toss her out again.”

                “Don’t come crying to me when she takes off your face,” Jim turned and walked out of the room.  “Put her out when you’re done getting hair all over the office.”

                He turned off the television and put away his empty teacup, turning out the light in the kitchen before going into the bedroom.  He was tired.   He heard the back door open and shut, and sighed.  He could sleep easy now.

                He had just drifted off to sleep when he heard motion in the kitchen.  He sat up, holding his breath to listen, reaching to the end table to grab the pistol in the top drawer.  He pushed the clip into the gun and engaged the slide release as he pushed the bedroom door open slowly and peeked through the crack.  He didn’t see anything in the dim light, but he could definitely still hear something rummaging through…the bin?

                Sliding through the cracked door, gun pointed at the ground, Jim moved through the short hallway toward the kitchen.  There was definitely someone in the kitchen, and his heart was beating in his ears.  He turned the corner, gun drawn, ready to confront any intruder.

                Two bright orbs glowed at him from the dim light, and a shadow lept from the trash can and across the floor into the living room.  Jim lowered the gun and flicked the light on.  From behind the couch he saw a small black face peering out at him.

                He walked back into the bedroom, unloading the gun loudly and slamming it back into the drawer.

                “Ulf.”

                Ulf rolled over and blinked up at Jim.  “What?”

                “Did you put that cat outside?”

                “Yes.”

                “Are you sure?”

                “Yes, why?”

                “Because it was in our bin and I nearly shot its head off and destroyed the cabinets we just put in.”

                Ulf laughed.

                “This is not funny, I want it out of my house right now, and I want to know where it’s coming in from.”

                Ulf rolled over and got up.  “Fine, I’ll handle the damn cat for you, pussy.”  He grinned, proud of his pun.             

                Jim slapped him.

 

 

 

                Jim’s alarm rang off at 7 the next morning, and he promptly threw his cell phone against the wall.

                He hadn’t slept well.  They could not manage to find the cat after he had confronted it in the kitchen, and he kept waking up to every tiny sound in the house the entire night.  He felt like he’d been taken hostage.  When he finally did wake up on his own, he was immediately aware of a weight on his chest.  He opened his eyes and was not surprised to see the black cat sitting in him, eyes wide, tail curled around her paws ever so daintily.

                He lay there for half an hour, unable to move, until she grew bored of her game and lept from the bed, silently padding off into the rest of the house to wreak her havoc.

  

 

 

 

                Jim wrapped the scarf more tightly around his neck, shielding himself from the post-rain October chill that had settled over the town.  Under his arm was a diminished stack of papers, in his hand a roll of duct tape and a pair of scissors.  He had spent the afternoon plastering posters all over the town.  Hopefully whoever it belonged to would call, and he could finally be rid of the black, hairy menace.

 

 

Despite throwing her out four times, the cat always showed up indoors again within the hour.  He looked around frantically, trying to find a cat flap he missed, a window open, anything, any way she could be getting in, and found nothing.  This cat was 50% evil and 50% black magic, he was completely convinced.  When she wasn’t stealing food off of the counter, she was getting long black hair all over the furniture.  Jim never claimed to be a neat freak – he did live with Ulf after all – but he tried to keep the place presentable, and with light coloured furniture, well.  Jim didn’t appreciate her additions to his household.

                Ulf loved the little visitor.  He enjoyed his morning tea with the cat curled up in his lap, his feet in front of the fireplace.  After he’d left for work, Jim had tried to befriend the cat, but all he got from his efforts was a plaster on his hand and a chip in his shoulder.

                When Jim came into the house, Ulf was lying on the floor rubbing the cat’s belly, making disgusting baby noises at it.  He looked up at Jim as he walked into the room.

                “I think you just got off on the wrong foot.  Try being nice to her, you’ll see.  She’s sweet.”

                Jim glowered.  “I think I’ll pass.  I’m not a cat person.”

                The cat glowered back at him.

 

 

 

                Jim woke up to the cat on his chest again that morning, and once again she held him hostage until she decided he had cowered enough.  Everywhere he went, she was there, out of the corner of his eye when he brushed his teeth, fur in his tea, sleeping in his chair when we went to sit at the computer.  He would have to vacuum the entire house whenever her owner showed up.

                 The call came at long last that evening right as Jim and Ulf were sitting down for dinner.  The person on the other end of the line had a thick Chicago accent, and sounded male.

                “Um, you have my cat?  About 15 pounds, black, hairy, yellow eyes?”

                “The spawn of Satan himself?  Yeah I’ve got her.  Please come get the creature out of my house.”

                “Oh,” The caller paused.  Jim rolled his eyes.  He could hear it in the other person’s voice.  _Yes, yes, my accent._ “I’m going to need your address, I guess,” the caller laughed nervously.

                Jim gave the address.

                “Actually, I live…right down the road from you.  Do you mind if I come get her now?  It’ll only be a couple minutes’ walk.”

                “I’d prefer you have come gotten her two days ago, but yeah sure, I’ll wait for you.”  Jim hung up on him.  He glared at the cat, sitting on the counter, unable to be shooed off, staring at him.  “Your master is coming for you and I hope you are ready.”

               

 

 

                Jim answered the door before the cat’s owner even finished knocking.  When he opened it he was greeted by a tall, blonde guy with a military haircut and surprisingly thick eyebrows.

                “I’ll get your cat.”

                The cat’s owner seemed a bit taken aback, but didn’t say anything as Jim yelled down the hallway for Ulf to bring the beast over.

                Ulf waved with one hand, cat under his arm, at the visitor, before Jim grabbed the cat and shoved it into the owner’s arms.

                “Here, please take this away.  Have a nice evening.”

                He shut the door.

 

 

* * *

 

 

                “I’ll be back on Sunday,” Ulf said, kissing Jim on the forehead.

                “Have fun I guess, if you have fun on business meetings.”

                “It’s a two hour flight, so try to remember not to invite anyone over until I touch down.”  Ulf’s eyebrow lifted.

                “Noted.  Now go before you miss your flight.”

                Ulf laughed.  “I feel like you _want_ me to leave.”

                “I have junk food and a book with my name on it, and I’ve had a long week.  I don’t _want_ you to leave, but I won’t lie and say I’m not looking forward to some quiet time by the fire.”   Jim’s face curved into a sideways smile.

                They finished their goodbye, and Jim fell into the couch, stretching out wide.  The house was so peaceful, morning sun filtering through the blinds, the pop of the fire in the fireplace, and no cat for over a week.

                He lay there for several blissful moments, when his phone buzzed.  Lazily he reached for it, frowning at the “new message” alert, followed by a number he didn’t recognize.

                “Is my cat at your house?  She hasn’t been home since yesterday.”

                Jim was about to write a rude reply when he heard a trill, and, alighting on the back of the couch with silent paws, was the cat.  She flicked the end of her tail and looked down at him, seemingly disappointed.

                Jim snapped a photo of the cat and sent it to the cat’s owner.

                “I can’t come get her until this evening when I get off of work at 5.”

                “You have until 5:30 before I throw her outside and you can look for her there.”

                Jim glared up at the cat.  “Why do you keep coming here?  I don’t like you, you don’t like me, our relationship is one big row.  Why don’t you stay with your owner?  Don’t like his washing powder?”

                The cat trilled.

                “Whatever, just don’t shed on anything, and don’t bother me.”

                The cat jumped down from the back of the couch, using Jim as an extra step on her way to the floor.  She looked him right in the eye as she daintily placed one foot and all of her weight directly onto the one place Jim really did not want fifteen pounds.  She trilled on her way to the floor, and Jim tried his best not to murder her before her owner arrived.

 

 

               

                The cat stayed out of his way most of the day, blessedly.  Jim was able to get his work done quickly, and she spent most of the day atop the bookshelf, gazing down at him.  At least cats were not like dogs, and did not need to be let out.  Good thing too, because it had started raining again, harder than before.

                He got up to make some dinner, and she sat on the counter next to the stove and watched.

                “Don’t judge me, I’ve lived in America too long, and fish and chips doesn’t really exist here,” he growled at her, pulling a previously frozen pizza out of the oven and cutting himself a slice.  He sat at the table and ate in silence.  She jumped to the table, sitting across from him.

                Their eyes met.  Slowly, carefully, he reached out a hand, gently touching the top of her head.  She allowed it.  He moved his head from her head down her back, to the base of her tail.  She stood up, arching her back and raising her tail into a question-mark shape.  She purred.

                Jim relaxed, stroking the cat gently.  Her fur was very soft and luxuriously thick.  He could see why people liked cats, at least petting them.  The vibration of the purring was even pleasing.

                Suddenly, the cat swung around and latched herself to his arm, teeth sinking into the fat part of his palm, her claws dragging down his forearm.  He screeched and slung her off onto the floor, where she walked away, tail lashing.

                Jim sucked air between his teeth and ran his arm under the tap, trying to wash away the blood that had already started spilling out of the cuts.

                “I hope you’re vaccinated, you furry twat,” he hissed at her from across the room.

                She flicked her tail at him.

                Two more plasters and an ace bandage later, and Jim had completely retracted every nice thing he’d ever thought about cats.  They were evil, and he hated them.

                “I need some tea,” he sighed, and put the kettle on.

                No sooner had he turned the element on than he heard a knock on the door.  “That’ll be your owner, I guess,” he said, glaring at the cat.

                Jim swung the door open and glared up at the blonde man, who was looking rather pitiful on the doorstep in a fancy collared shirt and tie, now completely soaked through.

                “You can just …give me the cat and I’ll leave,” he said, holding out his hands.

                Jim felt sorry for him.  It really was pouring out there, and he looked cold.  He sighed, and against his better judgment, held the door open wider.  “I just put the kettle on, come inside and dry off.”

                The stranger stepped into the living room, dripping all over the (thankfully hardwood) entryway.

                Jim stared at the puddle.  “If you want me to I can dry your clothes.  I think I have something you can change into for a while.”

                The stranger nodded, and Jim retrieved a towel and some of Ulf’s pajama pants and a shirt.  He led the stranger to the bathroom and went back to check on the kettle, which was singing.

                Jim heard the stranger step back into the living room, and turned to face him, holding a cup of tea.  His eyes moved up just in time to see the stranger pull the oversized shirt down over his torso, concealing what appeared to be a pretty impressive set of abs.  Jim’s eyebrow raised.

                “Milk, honey?” he asked.

                “What?”

                “In your tea.”

                The stranger stared.

                Jim rolled his eyes.  “Fucking Americans.  Fine, I’ll fix it how I like it and you can be educated.”

                He fixed the tea, and handed it to the stranger.  “My name’s Jim, by the way.”

                “Yeah, I saw it on the poster.”  The stranger held out his hand.  “Austin.  This tea isn’t half bad by the way.”

                They sat at the table, making small talk while the cat sat on the windowsill, staring out into the storm.   Austin was pleasant enough company – they didn’t have a huge amount of shared interests, but he was nice, had a sense of humour, and was rather easy on the eyes.

                “So did she do that?”  Austin asked, pointing to the bandages on Jim’s arm.  “The cat?”

                Jim looked down at his hand.  “Yeah, little tosser was being nice to me and then suddenly teeth.  Should have wrung her out right there but I figured you may call animal welfare on me.”

                Austin laughed.  “She is very…opinionated, I guess you could say.”

                “What I want to know is why she keeps coming over here.  I must’ve thrown her out six times last time, and every time she came back in and followed me around the house.”

                Austin shrugged.  “I just moved here this week, so she’s probably mad about everything still being in boxes.  Not sure why she picked you, but maybe she knows something I don’t.”  He laughed, and they made eye contact.

                Lightning cracked outside, the lights above them flickering.

                “That’s pretty serious,” Jim said absently.  “The main road is probably already flooded by now.”  It was mostly a lie.  The street did retain water, but it had never flooded once in the years they'd lived here.

                Austin groaned.  “If I try to drive my car through that it’ll stall for sure.”

                Jim finished off his tea.  “You can stay here tonight.”

                Austin shook his head.  “Oh, no I can’t, I…”

                Jim leaned on one elbow.  “Look, I’m gonna be blunt here.  I’ve got an empty spot in my bed and you’re attractive.  The street’s not drivable.  You can sleep on the couch, or have some company.  Either way, I’ll make you breakfast and you can take your evil cat and leave.”

                Austin seemed stunned.

                “Hey, come on, free food and sex, what more could a guy ask for?”

                “Don’t you…aren’t you…”

                “It’s an open relationship.”

                Austin frowned.

                Jim pulled out his phone, punched in Ulf’s number, and slid the phone across the table.  “Call him.”

                Austin stared at the phone, the looked back up at Jim.  “You could have made this even more awkward than it already is, you know.”

                Jim leaned forward.  “Oh, please.  You’ve been staring at me this entire time, and not in a ‘making eye contact during conversation’ way.  It was extremely obvious.”

                Awkward silence hung over the table.

                “Well, I’m going to have a shower.  Do what you like.”  Jim stood up and put his cup and saucer into the sink before walked into the bedroom.

                Austin looked at his cat.  “You better not magic your way into that room or I will throw you out in the rain myself.  Nobody wants to be judged when they’re fucking, got it?”

                She blinked slowly at him, brumming.

 

 

            Jim was a little disappointed to see that Austin was not in his bed when he was done with his shower.  Oh well, he wasn’t really expecting a random neighbour to sleep with him after meeting only a couple of times and only speaking once.

            He sat down on the bed, rubbing his head with his towel, when he heard the outside door open and close again.  Moments later, Austin knocked on the door. 

            “Come to tell me goodnight?”  Jim asked, as the blonde poked his head through the door.

            Austin smiled cockily.  “Maybe.  Figured I should get these first, though.”  He handed Jim a sheet of paper with a medical letterhead.

            “Thank you, though I am curious as to why you have these in your car on hand,” Jim said, glancing down the sheet.

            Austin shrugged.  “I keep them around because of my other job.”

            Jim’s interest was piqued.  “Your...other job?”

            “I dance.  At clubs.  And if you pay enough, you get to come in the back with me for a while.”  He said this nonchalantly, reaching behind his head to pull the shirt off.  “It pays the bills.”

            Jim nodded absently as he handed Austin back his papers and directed Austin to the bedside table.  Jim was completely fixated by Austin’s body, only vaguely aware that he was still sitting on his bed, hair dripping down his bare back. 

            The blonde was built like a cat (ah, that would be ironic wouldn't it,) lean and lithe, probably flexible as all hell.  Jim had a fleeting fantasy of finding out just how far he could bend him, but was snapped out of it by Austin taking a seat on his lap.  Green eyes met brown, the blonde giving Jim a surprisingly devilish grin that didn’t quite match his baby face.

            Jim leaned back, letting his eyes wander down Austin’s chest and stomach as Austin put his hands on Jim’s shoulders and gave him a taste of his work experience.  Jim’s skin was prickling, and he wanted desperately to put his hands on Austin, but he was also aware of the unspoken rules of receiving lap dances – first and foremost, you don’t touch the dancer.

            Austin noticed.  “You’re allowed to touch.”

            Jim released his breath dramatically, saying nothing, just grabbing Austin by the hips, pulling him closer, pressing his lips to Austin’s collarbone, resisting temptation to bite him.  Ulf loved teeth, but Jim had long learned that not everyone appreciated it.

            Austin’s hands pushed down on Jim’s shoulders, and he picked himself up, breath heavy as Jim’s mouth moved downward, his hands running down Austin’s back.  The English man’s hands were confident and purposeful, and he made quick work of Austin’s remaining clothing, pulling him down with him onto the bed. 

                       

 

 

                Jim kept his promise of breakfast, and Austin kept his promise of taking his cat home.   Afterward, the cat safely in the car, Austin had turned to Jim to say goodbye, but stalled, unsure of what the proper farewell should be.  Jim had laughed and kissed him, arm around his waist.  Austin mumbled a “bye,” and fumbled the keys into the ignition.  Cute.

                Jim was barely back inside the house when he got a text.

                “You can save my number if you want.”

                He laughed.

                “Done.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

                Later that night, Jim was laying on the couch watching crime TV, eating leftover pizza and drinking scotch, feeling pretty trashy, but not really caring a whole lot.  What else was alone time for, than being a lazy sod and doing whatever you wanted, he reasoned.

                He drained his glass and lay his head back against the throw pillow, basking in the warmth of the alcohol in his stomach.  He typically didn’t get drunk alone, but what the hell, he’d made a new friend and he was great in bed.  Worth a glass or two, Jim figured.

                His hand dropped over the arm of the couch, and his fingers brushed against something soft.  Absently he pressed his fingers into it, smiling to himself.   It felt nice.  Then it suddenly did not feel nice, and instead felt like needles jabbing into his finger.

                Jim yelped and recoiled away from whatever it was.  A drop of blood blossomed from a puncture hole in his thumb.

                “What the hell,” he started, leaning over the arm of the couch.

                He was greeted by the narrow eyes and lashing tail of the black cat.

                Immediately reached for his phone and opened Austin’s message log.

                “your catsh ere again, come get ttit” he typed.  It didn’t _quite_ look right, but whatever, good enough.

                The reply came almost instantly.  “Only if I get breakfast.”


End file.
